Blurred Lines
by huehuehuehhuehuheuh
Summary: The differences in philosophy between George Weasley and his twin are beginning to disappear, as is the line between love and lust. George/Hermione, Mature Audiences Only Please. R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! I'm back with another smutty story – this time with a plot! So read, review, and make suggestions. This might go on for a while.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter kingdom nor any of its minions.**

George Weasley was in a right pickle. A deep pile of dragon dung. Screwed. Whatever you wanted to call it – he was fucked. Who was able to claim the prize for messing with the head of the cool, calm, collected (and dead sexy) prankster? Hermione Granger.

She was gnawing away at his insides, all because she had ruined one of the few things that made him different than his twin brother, Fred. George, even though he shared his twin's DNA, was always initially attracted to a girl because of her personality, the way she treated others, that sort of thing. Fred liked to call him a pansy for it – Fred, the notorious womanizer, who had a different girl in his four-poster dormitory bed every other night.

You couldn't blame the girls; the Weasley twins had striking features, Quidditch-toned bodies, a killer sense of humor, and that indescribable bad-boy attitude that had girls swooning as they walked by in the halls. George knew that, because they were identical, he could have everything that Fred had. All he had to do was _let_ the girls who wanted to throw themselves at him do just that.

But George wouldn't have it. Maybe it's because he put more stock in what their mum said than did Fred, but he always felt somewhat unclean when he fancied a girl simply for her body. Yes, he was a seventeen-year-old hot-blooded human male, but he found it sexier when a girl was taking care of, say, younger siblings, or helping younger students out in the hallway, than when a girl was doing a strip show. Mind you, he had had offers for strip shows, but he had always redirected the desperate females toward his twin brother. He engaged in romps and the like only after having gone on several dates with a girl, becoming emotionally invested. George always thought that he would make a great father someday.

That is, until today, when he stepped into the aforementioned pile of dragon shit by walking in on Hermione in the prefect's bathroom. She hadn't noticed – thank Merlin, because neither of them would ever be able to face the other again if she knew that he saw her (gulp) pleasuring herself. Wanking off. What did girls call it, anyway? A lot of the penis metaphors commonly used obviously didn't apply here.

_Anyway_, he had had a few seconds' glimpse of her creamy, full breasts, topped with good-sized, peachy nipples; her toned, flat stomach and her flared hips; her long legs, one propped up on a bench near the shower as the warm water ran over her body; and, most jarringly, her plump, delicious, _bare_ quim, rosy petals glistening with her own arousal as she worked her fingers in and out of herself. Her facial expression – a small "o" of pleasure, eyes screwed shut – was what haunted him the most (besides, obviously, her tantalizing center).

So here he was, having sprinted all the way back to his empty dormitory, lying face down on his four-poster and trying to forget what he had just seen. For Merlin's sake, she was his little brother's best friend! Practically his sister! Walking in on Ginny doing… _that_… would have been scarring and unpleasant. It shouldn't have been so easy for George to think of Hermione that way – but it was. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen her as a sexual being before this.

Well, yes he could. It was because he didn't know enough about her as a person. He couldn't be attracted to her personality because he didn't have a full picture of it; he mostly knew her as the bookworm (and the reason his younger brother was still in school). He hadn't really ever talked to her, and yet here he was, thinking about her in the most unholy of ways, just like Fred would. He loved Fred, but he also cherished the small things that separated them as people. He felt like he was losing his bloody identity!

And still, upset as he was about it, he couldn't stop the flow of images to his mind. After having just one glimpse of her, his imagination had gone into overdrive, thinking of the two of them in compromising positions all over the place.

"Oh," he whimpered helplessly, lightly thrusting into the mattress to try and alleviate some of the tension present in his solid erection. It only added fuel to the fire, however. Now he was imagining thrusting into Hermione – _in his dormitory _ – while she writhed underneath him on his bed, wrapping her lovely legs around his waist and pulling him closer to her. George moaned as he became light-headed.

Admitting defeat, he flipped over onto his back and took his length out of his trousers. There was a wet spot on his boxers from the pre-cum collecting at the tip; he spread the fluid around with his thumb, groaning as he imagined Hermione swirling her tongue around the head of his penis.

_So wrong… so wrong…_he thought as he began pumping his hand up and down, using the pre-ejaculate as lubrication. He gripped tightly, working his hand along his solid length, now imagining Hermione riding him, he could _feel_ her around him, the tightness of her pulsating walls. He started to thrust upward with his hips as he coordinated them with the movements of his hand. "Oh, gahh, _fuck yes_," he groaned as he used his other hand to pull his shirt up and tweak his nipple – in his head, wild Hermione had bent down to take that nipple into her warm mouth, moaning around it as he gave it to her, sending vibrations down straight to his balls.

"Merlin! _Hermione!_" he yelped, giving a strangled cry as he came, shooting creamy strings of his release onto his bare stomach, his hands. It was definitely the best orgasm he had ever had while wanking, that was for sure.

Mildly disgusted with himself but also very sated, he grabbed his wand and murmured, "_Scourgify_." After pulling up his trousers and flipping onto his side, he closed his eyes and mulled over his situation.

'I'm George, the nice one, the one who's good to girls,' he thought firmly. 'Fred and I are both successful in the bedroom, but it's because we go about it differently. I can't just go and ruin – '

"Hey, Forge," came a voice from the doorway. It was, unsurprisingly, Fred, who had come to turn in for the night.

George considered sharing his problem with his twin. Why not? They told each other everything. "Gred, have you ever thought – "

"Not now, I'm beat. Let's talk about it tomorrow," said Fred, throwing himself onto his bed. Within a minute, soft snores were coming from his direction.

George shrugged and pulled the covers up over himself, hoping that his problem would have gone away by the time he woke up. "Night, Lee," he murmured, seeing through half-closed eyelids Lee Jordan enter the room.

"Night, Fred," said Lee.

"You git! I'm George!"

"I know, I know, I was only joking," laughed Lee. "You think I haven't figured out now where you two sleep?"

He laughed and climbed onto his four-poster. George, unsettled, wondered if that was the only way Lee could tell them apart. He was probably just being paranoid, but he was worried that the lines were beginning to blur even more between him and his twin.

'Damn Hermione!' was his last thought as he drifted off into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the long wait! I've had quite a busy start to my summer, and things are just starting to calm down. More chapters of longer lengths will be up soon, but I've had this little gem floating around in my head for a while, and I needed to share it before I went crazy.**

**Disclaimer: All rights and characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. Except a legal pad and a pen, both exceptionally good tools for the communication of imagination.**

The next day, George woke up, took care of his prominent, straining morning erection in the shower before anyone else had even gotten out of bed, dressed in his uniform-regulation trousers and jumper, and went down to the common room. He didn't expect anyone else to be up at this hour, as it was a full hour before the doors to the Great Hall even opened, even longer before food appeared on the table. He had gotten up extra early knowing that he had a Transfiguration essay due today that he hadn't even started. It wasn't anything especially large – just two feet of parchment – but he wasn't sure how much he could pull out of his arse concerning the history behind the conception of the Elemental Laws of Transfiguation. He sighed, acknowledging that even pranksters had to do schoolwork at _some _point, and plopped himself down on one of the common room's plush couches.

Just as he was pulling out a blank, albeit crumpled, roll of parchment and one of his Self-Inking Quills, he heard steps on the stairs leading down from the girls' dormitories. Who else could possibly be awake this early in the morning?

He should have known: Hermione Granger.

"Hermione," he said, a bit startled and terrified that his nether regions would _not_ remain in their current dormant state.

She jumped about half a meter in the air out of shock and gave a little squeak. Once she had settled down, she breathed, "George! What on earth are you doing up? No one else is usually awake at this hour, and you gave me quite a fright."

George grinned. "Just working on my 'Fig essay." At the glowing look on her face, he snorted and quickly added, "Don't get too excited, Hermione. It's due today."

She smirked at him. "Still, I wasn't sure you even did homework."

He returned her smug facial expression, enjoying the banter. "How did you think I stayed in school all these years?"

Hermione shrugged, plopping down next to him on the couch. "Blew the professors?" George sputtered, completely taken aback, and she giggled. "Oh George, you didn't think my mind had any rubbish in it at all?"

"Boy, was I wrong," George muttered, trying to calm the blush staining his cheeks. "I don't mean to change our current course of conversation, Hermione, but do you happen to know anything about how the Elemental Laws of Transfiguation first came about?"

The studious Hermione spent the next forty-five minutes educating George on the matter. All the while he could barely stand being so close to her. She smelled of vanilla, a hint of – brown sugar? – he wasn't sure. He and Fred, while beginning to develop their first few products, had become well-versed in the fine art of olfactory discrimination. In any case, George could JUST BARELY control his urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her, warm and willing, into his bedchamber. Instead, he swallowed his male instincts and managed to craft her helpful tidbits of knowledge into a passable two feet of parchment on one of the most boring topics he had ever had the privilege of studying.

At the end of the final inch, he sat back and stretched his cramped right hand. "Thanks, Hermione. You've been loads of help. I hope you don't do this for my younger brother too much. You spoil him, you know."

She gave a small smile. "I know, I know. It's just so hard to say no, you know?" She giggled at the phonetics of her question.

"I mean, I do, yeah," shrugged George, "but I feel like you deserve to be surrounded by people who won't take advantage of you." What on earth was he saying? The honesty, where was it coming from? The Weasley twins were never this straight about anything.

"George," Hermione breathed, looking him in the eyes, seeming to see him – George hope – as a man for the first time instead of her friend's older brother. They moved imperceptibly closer, their eyes still locked.

Suddenly, footsteps began echoing loudly and clumsily down the boys' dormitory staircase, causing both of them to jump. Hermione immediately rose and bent down to get her bag, mumbling an apology. What she must not have counted on was the way her uniform skirt rode up, allowing George to see everything – _everything – _between her legs. She was wearing a white lace thong, sexy in an innocent way, the transparency of which allowed George to feast his eyes for a few brief seconds on her beautiful, _bare_ mound.

All thoughts of keeping his member quiet instantly left his mind as he saw the way the strip of cloth rested in between her bare arse cheeks, how it fit her pussy, clinging tightly in all the right places.

How she was bent over in front of him, and if he moved just a _few inches_ forward he count snap the useless piece of cloth in two and delve his tongue into her center, taking her by surprise and bringing her untold pleasure.

How he could rip his trousers off and plunge into that sweet, tight pussy, keeping Hermione bent over and whispering sweet, naughty things in her ear as he fucked her from behind right in the Gryffindor common room, where anyone could walk in and catch them.

And then she straightened up, waved at George, and walked off toward the portrait hole, undoubtedly going down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Fred simultaneously appeared in the common room, having traipsed down in his nightclothes.

"Morning, George," Fred mumbled.

George rushed past him, saying, "I still need to talk to you!" in passing as he raced up the stairs to his room, leapt into his four-poster, drew the curtains, and undid his trousers.

He touched his sensitive crown and swallowed a moan at how engorged he was. It took only a few quick, tight strokes of his hand (and the mental image of slapping a wet and willing Hermione's lace-covered pussy a few times with his hard cock before yanking her knickers aside and plunging in to the hilt) to make him orgasm incredibly hard.

George kept it as silent as possible, aware of the others moving about the room. He didn't usually wank off behind his curtains, but he absolutely could not wait this time. Which was an alarming symptom of an even more alarming problem (Hermione bloody Granger) that he needed to address as soon as possible. How he was going to do this, he did not know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi all! I'm back after a little bit of a break. I'm going to keep posting chapters for this story, as well as start a sequel (after a fair amount of demand) to my first story, Frustration. It's a Draco/Hermione pairing, mostly smut, but this sequel is going to weave in plot amongst the fornication! If you haven't read Frustration, you should go check it out. Prepare yourself for some more George/Hermione first, though! It's too cute.**

**As always, I don't own Harry Potter. The 7th movie was pretty good - not terribly accurate, but good in its own way - but I didn't make any money of it because I don't own any part of the franchise. I might as well say, "stay away if you're under 17!" even though I doubt you under-17s will. Enjoy!**

After cleaning himself up, George shakily made his way down to the Great Hall, where most of his housemates had already started devouring their breakfast. He took a seat next to his twin and began to spread butter and jam on a piece of toast.

"And then I said, 'To hell with it!' and tinkered with the new variety of Fever Fudge for a couple of hours instead of writing the bloody thing. McGonagall's going to be in a right state, she is," Fred was saying to Lee Jordan across the table. "Oh, 'ello, George. Did you end up blowing off the ridiculous amount of parchment McGonagall assigned us, too?"

"Nope, actually wrote it this morning," George replied around a mouthful of toast.

"Oh, so it's a load of shit, then?" Fred asked knowingly.

"It might be, but Hermione actually helped me write it, so it might not be that bad-"

"Hermione? Hermione Granger? Ronnie friend? Since when does _she_ help you with _school_work?" Fred asked incredulously, spooning yoghurt into his mouh.

"Dunno, mate, she doesn't really. She just happened upon me in the common room this morning."

George's twin looked at him suspiciously. "You're-"

"Blushing," finished Lee.

"Am not!" protested George. Aware of how childish he sounded, he tried for a feeble, transparent "Why would I be?"

"I mean, I don't blame you. She _is_ quite fetching," admitted Fred. "I bet she's a wildcat in bed, eh? They say it's always the quiet ones."

"Try to contain yourself, Fred," said George, rolling his eyes.

"Come to think of it, perhaps I should give it a shot… telling Ronnie I bagged his bird first would be like an early Christmas present!" chuckled Fred.

"NO!" George said loudly, almost shouting. A good portion of the Gryffindor table looked their way. Used to their antics, though, the other students (including Hermione) soon lost interest.

"I mean…" started George, trying to cover up.

"So you _do_ fancy her, then?" asked Lee matter-of-factly in a slightly lowered voice. An enormous grin threatened to split Fred's face in two.

"I must, yeah?" George responded. "I'm kind of confused myself, really, because I don't really know her that well at all, but she's _bloody_ hot to me and all, so that must mean I like her, because that's how my mind works."

"You know," Fred put in, rolling his eyes, "you could just like her body. It _is_ possible, mate."

George clenched his fists at his sides, the only evidence of his internal struggle. "I just feel like Hermione deserves more than that." At an arched eyebrow from Lee, George added, "Not because I _fancy_ her, but because she's a woman – a human being! Well, I guess I _do _fancy her a _bit_, but – sod it all, you know what I mean!"

Fred chuckled. "We've got ourselves quite a case here, Lee."

"Stop it!" protested George. He felt a blush begin to stain his cheeks. And it took a _lot_ to make either Weasley twin blush.

Just then, the food vanished from the table, signaling that it was time to start the first class. From down the table, he heard a feminine moan of disappointment as the pumpkin pasties disappeared. George whipped his head around to see Hermione licking her lips in frustration as she grabbed at the empty air where the platter of pasties used to be. George groaned and closed his eyes. He couldn't take much more of this unintentional teasing.

"Time to go to DADA," said Fred, while Lee grumbled. "I can't take much more of Umbridge, honestly, mate. We've talked about cutting out before – wanna do that soon?"

"What about Lee? Is he in or out?" asked George. He, too, wanted to end his Hogwarts education early and start up a joke shop that would hopefully one day rival Zonko's.

"You kidding me? And leave Katie?" asked Lee incredulously. "You both know I'm getting arse regularly."

"It's not like you can't visit her," George reminded him.

"I know, but it's not the same, you know?" Lee confessed. "The spontaneous hallway sex, sneaking into her room into the middle of the night – hell, shagging in the common room… that one's hot because the fear of getting walked in on is always there…"

"You've done it in the _common room_?" asked Fred. "Which couches? I want to know which ones are still safe to sit my innocent arse down on."

"None of the couches, usually the rug in front of the fire. It feels more taboo and dirty that way," explained Lee matter-of-factly.

"You've got this down to a science," grumbled Fred under his breath.

"What was that?" asked Lee. Just then the second bell rang, signaling they had five minutes to get to class or else discipline would be taken (Umbridge's words).

As they walked to Defense Against the Dark Arts, George's mind wandered. Specifically, it wandered to all the scenarios that Lee had described over breakfast – hallway, bedroom, and common room shagging – except instead of involving Lee and Katie, they were involving George and Hermione. The thoughts were practically unbidden, but they bombarded him with vivid imagery.

George imagined himself taking Hermione up against a stone wall in one of the alcoves, her skirt shoved up (of course she hadn't been wearing any knickers) and his pants halfway down to his knees as he roughly thrust into her over and over again. She was biting his shoulder to keep quiet, making soft moans into his freckled shoulder every now and then when she couldn't contain herself. His hard, long strokes made sure he brushed her clit with every pass.

Then they were in her room, trying to keep quiet (even with a _Muffliato_, one couldn't take any chances) as he leaned dominantly over her, his cock surging into her channel as she wrapped her legs around his waist, scraping her nails over his back and leaving marks that were sure to be there in the morning. He would wear them with pride.

Finally, his mind drifted to the nice, comfy rug in front of the roaring fireplace inside the Gryffindor Common Room. He was on his back and Hermione was riding him, her wild hair thrown back and her lips slightly parted, and she was – dear Merlin! – she was playing with her own nipples and making these little whining noises as George gripped her hips and surged up into her.

"George!" Oh, his name sounded so good coming from those lips…

"George!" Fred was waving his hands in front of his twin's face.

"Wha?" asked George, disoriented.

"You've been staring into space and ignoring me as we're walking. Whatever. Hurry up now, we're going to be late!"

They ran to class as George cast a Concealing Charm over his crotch, careful not to let anybody notice the now-raging hard-on he was sporting. He sighed and resigned himself to a frustrating day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this took so long, everybody - organic chemistry is a bitch and a half. But my workload is beginning to lighten up, so I promise I'll post more often (if anybody cares anyway). Look for some lovable Weasley family meddling in the next few chapters!**

**Disclaimer: All I own is my dirty mind and what it makes these poor innocent characters do. The rest of it is JKR & Co.**

After Defense Against the Dark Arts, George had Herbology, a class in which he didn't pay any attention on the best of days. He didn't have the slightest chance today, what with Hermione on his mind. Next thing he knew, the bell was ringing and it was off to Transfiguration.

In the corridor, George and his friends passed Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They nodded and smiled their customary hellos, and Hermione asked, "Have you turned in that essay yet, George?"

He turned around and continued talking to her while slowly walking backwards. "Just on my way now. McGonagall will probably be suspicious about the fact that it's not only complete, but also halfway decent!"

Hermione laughed, and the sound was like tinkling bells. He wanted to make her laugh all the time just so he could hear that sound and have her attention focused on him. _Good God, what are you thinking, George?_"I'm glad I could help. Let me know if you ever want help again!" she replied, smiling.

George stood speechless at her offer. Luckily (or perhaps not), he was (somewhat) saved by Fred, who yelled over his shoulder, "Come on now, Georgie, we're going to be late again! You can undress her with your eyes later!"

George blushed furiously, as did Hermione. "Bye!" George blurted, then turned around and sprinted after his twin and his friend.

* * *

><p>George didn't talk to Hermione for the rest of the day – not because he was deliberately avoiding her, but because he didn't want anything to seem out of the ordinary. He, Fred, and Lee didn't normally sit with Ronnie and his friends, so it would seem odd if he spontaneously started doing so. So, at lunch and dinner, George sat with his sixth-year friends Angelina, Katie, and Alicia, and of course Fred and Lee.<p>

After dinner, Hermione vanished to the library and he never saw her again, even though he "casually" waited in the common room for her until just one or two other people remained. He then realized how obsessive he was getting and grew dejected at his foolishness, traipsing upstairs to bed. He drifted off to sleep hoping tomorrow would bring more of Hermione, however ridiculous his obsession made him feel.

The next morning, George woke up with the stiff morning erection that usually greeted him, only this time it couldn't be willed away like it usually could. He sighed and got out of bed and, noticing that no one else was up yet, decided to go into the showers to have a wank, if his unwelcome guest wasn't going to go away on its own.

As he approached the showers, he heard water running and wondered who could be in the sixth-year showers if everyone in his room was asleep. He then heard a moan – a low, feminine moan – and his manhood twitched as his blood ran cold.

"Is – is anybody in there?" he called out tentatively, his voice shaking.

"Just Hermione," came the reply, "But I don't mind sharing, George."

George felt hot and sweaty all over, incredibly nervous and incredibly turned on. His morning wood gave another twitch as he stepped toward the bathroom door and opened it.

"Bloody hell," he swore.

Hermione was on her back, legs splayed, on the edge of the bath. It was a dorm bath, considerably smaller than the Prefects' bath, and she evidently had needed more room. Her hair and body were still wet from the water – droplets ran down her glistening body as she worked three fingers in and out of her pussy.

"Mmm, sorry George, I had some unfinished business to attend to," she drawled, thrusting her hips up to meet her hand. He could tell that she was close.

They locked eyes as her mouth opened. "Oh… oh…" she moaned, maintaining eye contact and licking her lips.

George couldn't wait any longer. He was over to her in a flash, knelt down, shoved her hands out of the way, and buried his face in her womanhood.

"Just like that!" Hermione squealed as George pressed two of his fingers inside of her while tonguing her clit. She had already been close before he began his ministrations and she seemed to be reaching her peak.

"Fucking come for me, Hermione," George growled against her pussy, speeding up his fingers.

RIIIIIING!

George's magical alarm clock woke him with a start. "DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!" he shrieked, waking up all of his roommates. They stared at him, wide-eyed but drowsy.

"Sorry, mates," he whispered, and one by one, they fell back asleep. George heard Fred chuckle before his twin's head hit the pillow.

George's morning erection had never been so intense as he got out of bed and headed for the showers. He was getting up early today to wait for Hermione in the common room and invite her to have breakfast with him. IF he never did anything about his newfound crush on her, she would just continue to unintentionally torture him. George Weasley had never been a sit-back-and-let-it-happen kind of guy, and he'd be damned if he started now.

* * *

><p>Hermione Granger sat up quickly in bed, wide-eyed. Visions of George Weasley's strong, built body doing despicable things to her danced in her head and drifted away as she came more fully into consciousness. Her hand drifted down to her mound to find it exceedingly wet. She had to suppress a groan at how good any sort of contact felt down there. Imagining it as George's tongue made her actually moan.<p>

Luckily, she had gotten into the habit of Silencing her bed every night due to the persistent sexy dreams she had about various members of the opposite sex. Harry, Ron, Malfoy (in her dreams he didn't call her a mudblood), the twins (both together and separately), Neville, Dean – even Professor Snape had made an appearance once (the teacher-student thing turned her on like nothing else)! Just in case she moaned an embarrassing name, like "Snape," for instance, she had taken to casting _Muffliato_ on her bed each night.

Thinking back to her dream, there was no way she hadn't called out "George!" at least once or twice. He had been roughly taking her in various positions, some of which she was sure were illegal in some parts of Europe, all while tweaking her nipples and playing with her clit. Even thinking about it now Hermione felt a rush of heat to her center and bit her lip.

Her dreams about George had been predominant over the past couple of days. While Ron was her usual dream-lover, he had been pushed to the side by his older, more daring brother. Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate at all that day if she didn't get off before breakfast, so she pulled her wand from under her pillow and set it to vibrate (something they didn't teach in Hogwarts).

As she pressed it to her sensitive nub, Hermione recalled a certain dream scene in which she and George were sitting in one of the big, comfy chairs in the common room. Well, he was sitting on the chair, and she was sitting on his cock. She was wrapped fully around him so that he was using only his strong arms and upper body to pick her up and slam her down on his member over and over again. Hermione had her arms wrapped around his neck and fisted in his long, ginger hair as he alternated brutally sucking on her nipples. In between, he was leaving love bites all over her chest and neck, and she was leaving a war zone of scratches (some of which were bleeding) on his back. It was rough, fast and just the way she liked it.

"Oh, George, oh fuck oh fuck oh _fuck_," she bit out as she came violently, thrusting her hips up and down in time with her imaginary partner. When it was over she performed _Scourgify _on herself and stood up on wobbly legs to get dressed for breakfast.

Dressed in her school uniform (which was really getting too small for her these days, particularly around the bust, she thought), she grabbed all the books she would need for her morning classes and set off down for the common room to do a bit of light reading before Harry and Ron showed up.

As she got ready to go downstairs, she found herself wondering how George had found his way into her thoughts. The more she thought about him, the more attractive he seemed, and even his cavalier, cocky attitude toward school made her hot. How could she not have noticed him before? As she descended the stairs, thoughts consumed with her favorite sexy prankster, she abruptly stopped when she noticed that he was sitting on a couch right in front of her.

"Morning, Hermione," said George with a smile. _That voice_, she thought, remembering the way he had moaned her name in her dreams. Her panties began to get damp and she was surely blushing profusely. Then again, so was he.

"Good morning, George," she managed brightly. "Up early again?"

"Yeah, just wanted to keep you company 'til your other, less intelligent and attractive friends arrive to take my place," he said with a smirk. Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth quirked. Was she still dreaming? She subtly pinched herself.

"That's very thoughtful of you," she replied. _Play it cool, play it cool. _ "I was actually just thinking about you." _Why did you say that?_

Now it was his turn to gape. "Oh, really? And why is that?"

"Just…. wondering how your essay went over with McGonagall," she blurted out, too shy to mention anything remotely sexual around him.

His expression fell back into composure. "I'm sure it went well, considering what a great tutor I had," he said with a wink.

Hermione blushed again. "That was really nice what you said about me."

"Oh, you mean how Ron is an oaf and you're underappreciated and all that? Meant every word." George grinned.

Hermione smiled. "That's sweet of you. Nobody else has ever told me that."

"Nobody else has ever-" George began.

Just then, Neville appeared in the common room. "Have either of you two seen my uniform trousers?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Negative," George responded. "You have to stop leaving them places, Neville, we've had this talk before," he joked.

Neville chuckled. "I'll find them. Thanks, guys," and with that he traipsed back up the stairs.

Their moment gone, George went for the direct approach. "Want to come have breakfast with me?"

Hermione cocked her head in pleasant surprise. "Yeah, I'd like that," she said shyly. "Is the Great Hall even open yet?"

"We'll take the scenic route," George offered, standing up. Hermione giggled and stood up, and together (sweaty hands, racing heartbeats and all) they walked out of the portrait hole.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everybody! So I took a bit of a figurative sabbatical - in the past couple of months, I've become obsessed with the show True Blood, and I've been devouring every piece of M rated Eric/Sookie fanfiction I can get my hands on. For those of you not familiar with True Blood, all you need to know is that Eric has 1,000 years of sexual experience that he puts to good use in a variety of sinful ways at the hands of fanfic authors. Why am I telling you this? Well, for one, it's given me a new spark to start writing and updating more quickly, because I've experience firsthand how annoying it is to have to wait a long time for updates from a story you really like. Secondly, I've read a lot more smut and thus have new ideas/material to work with in my current stories.**

**The sequel to my Dramione fic "Frustration" is all planned and the first chapter is in the process of being written. Once I've finished this story and Frustration's sequel, I'll probably start working on an Eric/Sookie fic, but I promise to keep churning out HP fics - HP is my first love and will always have a special place in my heart.  
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**Still don't own the characters! There's no smut in this chapter, but more will definitely be coming, and soon.**

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><p>Hermione's heart was singing in joy as they left the common room. It was also about to give out due to its frantic, nervous pace. She could hardly look at George Weasley without remembering her dreams of the previous few nights. She did, however, allow herself to check out his arse when he walked first out of the portrait hole. She definitely liked what she saw.<p>

"So, how'd you sleep?" George asked her. It was a normal, mundane question – at least it would be if she hadn't spent the entire night assaulted by scenes of them rutting frantically against each other in animalistic need reaching release after glorious release.

"Fine," she answered, blushing. "I don't feel very well-rested, though."

"Me neither," agreed George. "It's okay though, I get a decent nap in Herbology every day."

"George!" Hermione admonished.

"Don't tell me you've never slept in class," replied George defensively.

"Never intentionally," she admitted. "Although with Professor Binns, I sometimes can't really help it.

"Binns bores me to tears. I think that's one thing that everyone at Hogwarts can agree on, no matter what house they're in."

As they turned a corner, they came upon Crabbe and Goyle cornering a first-year and demanding that he steal potion from Snape's office for them. Other students passed them by, not wanting to invoke the two bullies' wrath by standing up for the younger student.

Hermione bristled in indignation. She had never stood for this sort of intimidation. Neither, apparently, had George. "Oi! Crabbe! Goyle!" he yelled. "Pick on someone your own size!" Hermione chuckled inwardly at the thought that someone the size of Crabbe and Goyle had to be pretty hard to find.

The two Slytherins relinquished their hold on the terrified boy and turned to look for their challenger. When Crabbe's eyes alighted on George, he grinned.

"Looking to pick a fight, Weasley?" he yelled back to the older boy. Goyle snorted in childish mirth.

"If it means you lay off that poor bloke, then yeah, I guess I am," challenged George, stepping forward.

Hermione sized up the situation. Crabbe and Goyle were large and imposing, but terrifyingly daft. George was outnumbered, skinnier but with a sort of lean, wiry strength to him, and he had the advantage of being crafy and quick-witted. Hermione took a moment to admire the way his biceps very subtly stretched his tight uniform jumper, and the way he selflessly stood up for the poor first year, and the dreamy way his – _snap out of it, Hermione! _She quickly drew her wand as subtly as she could, not wanting to get involved unless she really had to.

"All right, Weasley, we're going to settle this like men," announced Crabbe, rolling up his sleeves and tossing his wand on the floor.

"Yeah, and no magic, either," added Goyle, as if it wasn't already blindingly obvious.

George put his wand on the ground and looked back at Hermione. "Trust me," he mouthed. She stared back at him, wide-eyed, and nodded.

Crabbe and Goyle advanced on him and George held his ground. After a brief tussle, Goyle ended up with his front against George's back, holding both of his arms as the redhead struggled to get away. Crabbe grinned and backed up, preparing to rush forward and deliver one serious punch. "Easier than I thought, Weasley," he sneered.

Hermione was worried for George, but she couldn't help but wonder if he was putting all of his strength into fighting off Goyle's grip. She could also see that he was struggling very hard to suppress a grin. She kept her wand ready, just in case.

Crabbe then began running toward the two wizards, fist wound up and ready for action. At the last second, George took Goyle by surprise and used his shoulders and strong chest to spin the pair around, and Crabbe's punch landed squarely on Goyle's bum.

"Oi! You little-" roared Goyle. But instead of going after George, he went after Crabbe, and the duo began brawling like angry hippogriffs.

Hermione beamed as she saw George back away from them unnoticed and unharmed. The first-year had long since made a run for it once he realized he was no longer on Crabbe and Goyle's radar. "That was brilliant, George!" she said quietly.

"Oldest trick in the book," George replied.

In another stroke of good fortune, Professor McGonagall came around the corner at that very moment in a rush of black robes, just in time to see Malfoy's cronies fighting each other.

"What on earth is going on here?" she stammered. "Crabbe! Goyle! You blithering baboons! Separate this instant!"

At her words they looked up from where Goyle had been repeatedly slamming Crabbe's head into the floor.

"I'm terribly sorry about this, Professor," piped up Hermione. "George and I were just on our way to breakfast when we found them. I was just about to do something about it, seeing as I'm a prefect." It wasn't a full-blown lie, only a lie by omission. She took some comfort in that.

"Of course, of course, Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall kindly. "You and Mr. Weasley may run along. I will deal with these two."

George grabbed Hermione by the hand and led her toward the Great Hall. She blushed furiously and fought the heat that had started to grow between her legs. Seeing him cleverly maneuver and win a fight turned her on more than she cared to admit.

When George realized what he was doing, his face turned the same color as his hair and he dropped her hand. Hermione knew they both wanted it, so she took his hand back, giving it a squeeze and gracing him with a shy smile. His hand was warm and sweaty in hers, and she was sure he was as nervous as she was.

Nothing more was said between them on their journey to breakfast. When they got to the Gryffindor table, none of their other housemates were there yet. Hermione nibbled on a piece of toast and George leisurely sipped on some pumpkin juice as other students began to gradually trickle in.

"You know, I was prepared to be your second if things went sour," joked Hermione.

"I was prepared to use wandless magic if I needed to," George assured her. "They probably wouldn't even realize that I was using a spell."

"That was really sweet of you, you know," she said, smiling.

"What?"

"Standing up for that little guy like that."

"Well, I wasn't about to let something like that happen if I could help it."

Overcome with his soft side and honest admissions, and before she even knew what she was doing, Hermione leaned across the table and kissed him squarely on the mouth. No tongue, it was over as soon as it started – and then she sat back and they both stared at each other wide-eyed.

They were answered by wolf-whistles from a few of the Gryffindors who had started to sit down. A smile quirked at the sides of George's mouth, and seeing this, Hermione relaxed immensely. She grinned at him, and he let out an audible breath and smirked back at her. It was going to be a good day.

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><p>Ginny Weasley stepped inside the Great Hall just in time to see Hermione lean across the Gryffindor breakfast table and plant one on her older brother. Not Ron, but <em>George<em>. What was going on?

Just then, she saw Fred pass her as he approached the breakfast table. "Well done, Georgie!" he hooted. Ginny stepped forward, grabbed him, and pulled him to the side, out of sight and earshot of the others.

"Why was Hermione kissing George, Fred?"

"I dunno, but it's good for him, because I know he has the hots for her," Fred replied distractedly, wanting to get to breakfast.

"But it's all wrong!" she stomped her foot, frustrated.

"What do you-" Fred started, and then he saw the look on her face. He had seen that look on George's face before, and he'd felt it many times himself. "Ginny," he said slowly, grinning, "what have you done?"

She looked at him and then quickly at the floor. "Nothing!" she squeaked, rushing past him and into the hall.

"I'll get it out of you eventually!" Ginny heard him call after her. She shook her head and gulped. This was definitely not going according to her plan!


End file.
